


Late Night in Eulmore

by BiscuitInferno



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Cologne, Friendly banter, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Teasing, Wine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-04 05:40:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20465924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiscuitInferno/pseuds/BiscuitInferno
Summary: Not being able to sleep, the Warrior of Darkness takes a walk around Eulmore but runs into an Ascian.





	Late Night in Eulmore

You turn over and heave a sigh, desperately trying to ignore the wild legs of the young elezen next to you. All of the Scions had been given quarters to sleep in that evening after Vauthry’s flight, but it ended up being only two rooms the people could spare. Which led to sharing beds. Which was not a problem-- or _ wouldn’t _ be a problem, if it wasn’t for the fact that Alisaie kicks in her sleep _ and _ Ryne talks in her sleep. How Y’shtola was sleeping through Ryne’s murmuring when right next to her was something of a mystery in itself. 

You scowl at another well placed kick and finally with a groan slip out of the bed. You are exhausted, but no matter how well your eyes stuck together, it was impossible to fully succumb to sleep with Alisaie's assault. You shuffle in the darkness, patting around until you find your boots and slipping them on before creeping out of the room. 

For some reason you find yourself wandering to the main square of Eulmore. At this time of night, most everyone is in bed. A few sleepy guards nod to you, the only stray citizens wandered from the night club. But other than that… empty. 

It still disorients you, how bright it could be even while nearing the middle of the night. You make your way over to a large balcony looking over the glassy sea. A slight breeze picks up and brings the scent of salt with it. It is not as refreshing as it was in La Noscea. Here it smelt stale, stagnant… A testament of the hundred years of the tide being hindered by the wall of light.

“Couldn’t sleep, hero?” Emet-Selch seems to materialize from thin air, stepping up to your side. 

You give a groan. “Surprise; it turns out Alisaie kicks in her sleep and Ryne talks. And with the days events…” You trail off, not wanting to think of the scene where Vauthry sprouted wings. “What about you? For your insatiable appetite for sleep, one would think that you would be at it by now. Don’t tell me you got kicked out of the room.”

He smirks and raises a glass of presumably wine to his lips. “That boy Alphinaud was kind to offer, but I doubt any of them would enjoy having to share a bed with me. Least of all Thancred.”

The thought of the face Thancred would make having to sleep next to the Ascian makes you chuckle a little. “Indeed he would not. But you can’t blame the man,” You refocus on the glass he swirls in his hand. "Where did you get that?"

"Hmm? Oh, the wine? Found it stashed away and out of sight. Figured no one would really miss it in all of this commotion," he smiles. "What? Do you care for a glass too?"

You roll your eyes but hold out your hand. He stares at it for but a moment before he understands. He hands it over and watches closely when you take a sip.

You hum and take another sip, longer than the last. "That's not bad," you report and hand him the glass back. "What was the vintage?"

With a flick of the wrist, the bottle appears into his free hand. "From before the flood," he murmurs after scanning the label. 

"Ah," you reply and lean against the railing. He makes a quiet snap and out of the corner of your eye you see him hold out a spare goblet. You raise a brow at him and watch it warily. 

He gives an exasperated sigh and rolls his eyes. “Come now hero, I believe we are far past the point of thinking that I would try to outs you by means of poison. It is the same thing as what I have. Must I give you the glass that I have partook from to ease your apprehension?”

Your mask falls and you laugh genuinely for him, taking the glass he offered. “Nay, I only was trying to get a rise from you and have succeeded.”

“Hmph,” Emet-Selch twists his lips into a pout. “I will have to return the favor in due time.” 

You give him another smile where he responds with his own. The silence that follows is comfortable, both of you indulging in the fine drink and cool air. More comfortable than you would ever have expected to have while in his presence. How far you both had come. You could recall when he had first introduced himself, you had to restrain yourself from closing the gap and tearing him to shreds. But now, after quite some time together sharing adventurers and knowledge, you had come to consider him a… 

Friend didn't seem right. Neither did companion. So what could he be considered as? He was an Ascian, so the first thought would be: enemy. But that didn't quite fit either at the moment. This was quite confusing. A small part of you wanted him to be similar to Lahabrea, who was easy to hate. But Emet-Selch made it quite hard. Scathing sarcasm and bitterness that was actually really charming, exasperation with every breath, but fascinating stories at every turn. You could listen to him speak of history for hours on end. You honestly didn't want him to be your enemy, though you had a sinking suspicion that this would all end with him being it.

“I never really expe--” 

“Hush,” he cuts you off and goes on the alert, eyes and ear scanning the area. You seeing his wariness go on guard too. Could it be sin eaters? You scan the horizon, looking for anything moving in the blinding light. You had neglected to bring any of your weapons or armor, for you only intended to take a short walk.

He plucks the wine out of your hand and both glasses disappear with a snap. With no other warning he grabs you by the arm and pulls you into the shroud of a large heavy drape, crowding you against the wall. 

“What the hells are you doing--”

“Shhh,” he bids again, pressing a silk covered finger to your lips. You still your attempts of escape and listen closely, finally hearing voices approaching. They are loud and lively, most likely citizens fresh from the bar. 

“Emet-Selch,” you warn him with a hushed tone. "They are just citizens."

“Citizens who stare and point at me all while whispering to themselves. I do not like to be gawked at,” he breathes in return. “Especially not by drunkards.”

You give him a dirty look, but he is intently watching the sliver of light between the wall and drapes, waiting for the people to pass. The come close at last, laughing and giggling about some matter or another. A guard joins them shortly, scolding them for being out so late and that they should retire for the night. They voice their complaints, but wander off grousing the whole way.

When they finally get out of ear shot, you had thought Emet-Selch would push away but instead he lingers. You fingers absently curl around the fur of his coat, which had been placed there to steady yourself when he had grabbed you. With his proximity, you become acutely aware of everything about him. His slow breathing, the heat of his body, the weight of his bulk as he practically pressed you against the wall, the scent of his cologne starting to surround you… the faint sound of a heartbeat not your own. 

All things you had noticed before to a small degree, but not so vividly. You had never been this close to his person before, instead keeping a polite distance during your conversations. 

Your nose is practically buried in the fur of his coat causing each breath you take to be completely full of his fragrance; dark, rich, spicy, simply-- intoxicating. Twelve have mercy on you, this was a man who knew how to wear cologne. 

It was tasteful too, just enough so at a distance you may chance to get a whiff of it, but would have to be close to get the full experience. You longed to lean in further and take a sample directly from the source-- his neck is where you assumed he had dabbed it. Hells take him for smelling so pleasant. 

He shifts, pushing closer-- dropping his head. "I can hear your pulse race, hero," he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear. "Does my closeness set you on edge? Do you despise me? Do you want to tear me apart with your bare hands?"

Your breath catches and even though you try, no response comes.

"Or could it actually be that you are... enjoying this?" He asks after your silence. Your eyes widen and your fingers dig harder into his coat. You try to lie to yourself, saying it's only the pleasant perfume… 

He catches your chin with silk clad fingers, tilting your burning face up. The light is dim, only one beam lighting the space, but it is enough to see his features, draped in shadows as they were. He was smirking again. Always smirking.

“What would your Scion friends say if they saw us like this?” he wonders aloud, his tone making it clear he is pleased with himself for catching the Warrior of Darkness so off guard. “Do they know you secretly _ pine _ for your own enemy?”

You attempt to shove him away, but it does little to move him. “Get off Emet-Selch,” you grind your teeth and push harder, tapping into that unrelenting strength. And yet he does not budge. It startles you how he can withstand your power and made you wonder just what kind of incredible strength this Ascian holds to resist your efforts.

He chuckles and presses even closer, wedging a knee between your legs and effectively pinning you against the wall. “I think not,” he leans his face close to yours and you realize just what he intends. You freeze. You could turn away, or you could…

He pauses there a breath away. “You have such a beautiful soul, hero,” he murmurs, lips threatening to graze your own. You shiver when he rests a hand on your waist, squeezing gently. “It is such a pity it was torn asunder. So broken, so… incomplete.”

Emet-Selch closes the slight gap to just barely brush his lips against yours. Electricity zaps straight through you, heat bubbling up immediately. He pulls away to observe your very bright face. 

"Oh hero," a dark smile twists his lips.

As quickly as it had began, it ends. Emet-Selch pushes off of you, leaving you quite flustered. It was unfair of him to tease you so and it made you want to smack the smirk right off his face. "Now. Off to bed, hero. You have an early start in the morning, don't you?" He taps the end of your nose playful.

You catch him when he turns to leave the shroud of the curtain, jerking him back by his fur collar. "You don't get off that easily, Ascian," you pull him closer, feeling emboldened by his forwardness.

He chuckles. "What? Craving more? I was only trying to get a rise out of you, and I succeeded." 

Him throwing your own words back at you has you faltering and blushing wildly. "You--"

"Incapable of taking a little teasing, are we?"

You scowl and jerk his collar to pull his face down to yours. Your lips crash together, yours moving across his in an attempt to coax him into response. He stiffens above you before you can feel him relax, his mouth curling into a smile against yours. He begins to return the kiss with equal fervor, re-wedging his knee between you legs and pulling you flush with an arm around your waist. He easily dominates the kiss, nibbling on your bottom lip to make you gasp. He takes advantage and dives right in, making your squirm in his arms.

He breaks away-- his forehead resting against yours, his third eye pressing into your skin. He steals gentle kisses here and there, waiting for your breath to return. Your fingers curl, one hand threaded through the fur of his collar and the other lost in the silk of his hair. You find yourself licking your lips while collecting your thoughts, savoring the taste you had gotten.

Your eyes open and they are met with gleaming golden pools. Looking into them you find something achingly familiar, yet it was impossible to understand what it truly was. A half finished thought that would never be completed. It slips from your mind quickly, as if the concept never existed.

“Well now,” he clears his throat, his voice a touch hoarse. “This is most unexpected. Care to move this somewhere more private?”

You regain your senses and push him off. This time you are able to, and you know it is only because he allows it. He chuckles lightly. "Relax, hero. It truly is far past your bedtime and you have much to do tomorrow; talking to citizens, restructuring city ordinances, gaining loyalties. Run along now and let yourself slip off into sweet slumber," he sighs blissfully, practically sings the end to you.

He draws back the curtain, giving you a clear exit, but you catch yourself hesitating. He notices too. "Unless… you are reconsidering my offer?"

You scrunch your face up to hide your flush and stalk past him into the blinding light. You pause to regain your bearings and turn when he emerges from the drapes, a smug smirk etched in his lips. 

"Goodnight, Emet-Selch," you say politely, giving an equally polite nod and turning back toward the residency section of the city.

"Goodnight, _ my dear _," he calls after you. You stumble and whip your head around, cheeks heating up again. That smirk has only seemed to grow. He has his wine glass again and raises it your direction before taking a sip.

You flee quickly, returning to your quarters in all haste. Once in the dark room again, you kick your boots off and flop back into your shared bed with Alisaie. Thankfully, her legs have stopped kicking for now. You heave a sigh and grumble quietly to yourself. 

"Is something amiss?" Y'shtola calls softly. You can just see her head poking over Ryne's sleeping form.

"Ascians," you grumble back. 

"Ah," you can almost hear the hesitation in her voice. "Do try to not let their words affect you over much."

_ It's his actions that are more concerning _, you tell yourself silently. He claimed only to speak the truth. Does that also reflect to those things that are not words? Your cheeks warm, remembering how he spoke of your soul. He truly must think so then, right? "Goodnight, Y'shtola," you end the topic there.

Another pause, and then a soft sigh. You can hear her settle back into the bed. "Sleep well."

You settle into your own, letting yourself get comfortable. Your mind wanders, it inevitably going to Emet-Selch. His eyes, his voice, his smirk, his scent, his… kisses.

You groan and force your mind to stop conjuring images of what it would have been like if you had accepted his offer. With his age, and the multitude of empires he has personally cultivated, it is guaranteed he would be an expert lover with a full arsenal of tactics to make one writhe. You cover your head with the blankets and start to go over the list of things tomorrow would bring, if only as a distraction from the small ache forming inside you. It works slowly, the boring ideas for tomorrow making you feel drowsy. You sigh and get comfortable, finally slipping off into sleep.

But in your dreams, Emet-Selch is the only thing on your mind.

**Author's Note:**

> I head-cannon that Alisaie totally kicks in her sleep, Alphinaud drools, Urianger probably sleeps stiff as a board, Thancred sleeps with one eye open, Ryne would talk, and Y'shtola would just curl up into a little ball but would wake at the slightest sound. 
> 
> Emet-Selch can sleep anywhere, keeping his aetheric senses on alert for any danger-- but I bet he snores quietly.


End file.
